


Eternity's Darkness

by the_Runaway075 (orphan_account)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Daemon Ardyn Izunia, Daemon Touching, Darkness, Forced Pregnancy, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 10:30:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17486474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/the_Runaway075
Summary: Having fulfilled his destiny at last, Noctis awakens only to find himself abandoned in the darkness, tortured at the hands of his own flesh and blood.





	Eternity's Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write for Ardyn for some time now, so I finally have. This is pretty disturbing, but for those of you who like to read about hurt!Noctis, then this is for you.
> 
> I hope I wrote Ardyn okay!

Oh, his body hurt, his whole being was wracked with pain. Blood rushed to his head, pounding and surging as his head throbbed. In the dark, he cried out, pouring all the strength he had left into the volume of his voice, hoping against hope that he might be heard this time. Then it surged again; like lightning, it shot through him and herded his legs apart, much farther than a normal human could withstand the physical limits of his limbs.

 An inhuman wail escaped his throat as it felt as if his lower half was being ripped off. He arched off the bed as a gush of black blood from between his legs proceeded the arrival of death. Gods, the pain was unbearable. His knuckles turned white with desperation as he gripped the sheets, thighs shaking with incoming pressure.

 He had to push, bearing down in vain as the creature his body had nurtured and fed reluctantly for only 3 hours violently breached his body, tearing through his soft, bruised walls with a vengeance.

 Teeth clenched, insides being squeezed like a vice, he couldn’t even give all he had into his pushes, unable to exert himself as the creature angrily reared itself. He reached a hand down between his legs and felt a sharp claw, tears running down his face and into his beard stubble, a constellation of his suffering.

 The creature clawed its way through him, brutally stretching his opening like its siblings had done before it. It howls within him, a deafening screech as the time of its birth approached. The king’s body shuddered, shook with massive pressure, forcing him to curl in pain as he gave birth, his bottom burning like a blazing fire.

 This wasn’t his first time, however; he had given birth at least seven times before. Each time, he would beg for death. Yet his cries went unanswered, and he was tortured mercilessly by the agony his body produced at the unwanted intrusion.

 He writhed and flailed against the pressure, turning onto his hands and knees as he tried desperately to tame the madness he mothered for months, the darkness he nursed within his womb.

 Then it came. Its arrival was heralded with a loud cry and a sharp gasp from its mother, whose suffering would only subside for a few hours. He peers down only to be disgusted, both by the creature and himself. His legs are slathered in black blood and mucus, his opening all slimy and aching like the bowels of hell. The newborn daemon squeals with life as it's lifted up and cradled by the arms that made it.

 “Oh, he’s absolutely perfect!”

 Noctis can barely move. The hump that occupies his abdomen is still so heavy, like all the other times. He squints his eyes against the phantom pain bulging in his belly to glance up at the man responsible for all his suffering.

 “I do believe he looks like me, don’t you think?” A wink and a grin flash beneath wild auburn locks, soft, brown eyes morphing into yellowed irises, sunken in and piercing anything in their line of sight. “It’s quite a shame you don’t possess that same brand of snark and stubbornness when you were just a boy, Noctis. It would serve you well here.”

 “Ardyn,” Noctis hisses, but it’s more of a whine as he arches off the bed. Ardyn extends his hand and out trails an aura of purple mist from his fingers, forcing its way into Noctis. That same familiar pressure begins filling his womb once more where it is now void of darkness. “You’re disgusting…!”

 “Ah, ah,” Ardyn interjects with a wag of his finger, leaning over Noctis’s naked form, arms crossed over his spread knees. “Now, now, is that any fitting behavior for a king? You must remember your place, Noctis, your subjects look up to you, you know.”

 Noctis lets out a warbled groan as his body begins to swell with daemon seed yet again. “Let me… go, you son of a bi-” Ardyn appears behind him and yanks his hair back, silencing him.

 “Hush, you lovely thing,” he says huskily, mouth against Noctis’s throat. “We are not as different as you may think.”

 Noctis’s heart bottoms out where there was once courage, courage to really fight back. “Shut up,” he cries weakly, clamping his legs tightly against the daemon soon to be born. “Get away from me!”

 Ardyn stays right where he is, stroking Noctis’s head. “You see, Noctis, the gods have forsaken you.”

 Noctis can barely pose a threat. He tucks his chin to his chest and exerts himself, groaning in pain. “You’re… you’re lying!!”

 He continues to stroke his hair, offering Noctis a hand to squeeze. Noctis accepts without really realizing. “Why would I lie about such a sensitive subject? I'm only trying to help you.”

 Noctis is forced to open his legs as yet another daemon begins breaching his entrance. He screams as his hip bones crack. “ _Gods!!_ ”

 “Yes, yes, cry out to the gods who have abandoned you,” Ardyn says, raising his voice. “Give them the praise they rightly deserve!”

 Noctis struggles to calm himself, body wracked and worn by repeated childbirth. He can’t take this much longer. Everything about his existence is crying for relief. “You’re wrong,” he gasps wearily, squeezing Ardyn’s hand even harder. “Just like all… the other... times.”

 Ardyn’s grin fades, his eyes leaking black substance. He clamps a hand over Noctis’s eyes and whispers lowly into his ear, “Must I prove the truth that already lies before you? I have lived in this darkness for 2,000 years, Noctis. Is it truly a wonder to you how I know all these things? The gods are selfish -  _we_ are their pawns.” He walks two fingers along Noctis’s collarbone then cups his cheek. “Twisted, tortured, mutilated… until we are nothing more than a forgotten plaything.”

 Noctis gulps, turning his face to the side so he can’t feel Ardyn’s breath on his neck. He wants to rip his hands off, but he’s afraid of what Ardyn might do should he risk retaliating. “But, they blessed me,” he says, voice caught on the air and left to wither in the empty void of space.

 Ardyn scoffs slightly, lifting his hand off Noctis’s eyes. “This man you see before you was once called ‘blessed’ as well.” He struts around aimlessly, almost melancholic. “Until I fulfilled my duties - then they rejected me. They said I was ‘unfit’ to rule as the Chosen King. ‘Unclean’, they called me. The Accursed One.”

 He’s quiet for long moments afterwards. Noctis doesn’t speak nor does he move, especially since he doesn’t want to anger the daemon fetus inside of him now that it has found a place to snuggle up and sleep.

 “Ah, but that's all behind us now,” he says with a smile, crooked and not at all out of adoration. “Now that I have you, my little descendant. You, and this lovely, little body you have - perfect for breeding daemons.”

 His laugh is sinister, vile, causing Noctis’s skin to crawl. Noctis shivers at his touch, his body growing cold. “Stop touching me-” Suddenly, he throws his head back, screaming. Simply Ardyn’s touch has roused the daemon offspring. Noctis’s body is thrown once again into the agony of childbirth.

 Ardyn provides some leverage for Noctis to sit up by pushing up on his back. “You know, you truly are quite a beauty, Noctis. I wonder what the gods had in mind when they created you?”

 He doesn’t even know himself. The reality is that Noctis believed once he had fought Ardyn and brought the Dawn back, they would return him to his world, his life among friends and family. But instead, he was rejected, just as Ardyn was millenia ago. He begs the gods for an answer, prays for them to save him and show him the way…

 But what if Ardyn  _was_ right? What if he was really trapped here, subjected to cruelty and malice all his long days? This wasn’t supposed to be - Noctis knew that.

 But then, after the birth of his ninth daemon, Noctis dares to glance down at himself and the markings strewn across his flesh: The Mark of the Archean, bold and strong, bored into his right thigh.

 The Mark of the Fulgarian, fierce and sharp, struck into the side of his neck.

 The Mark of the Tidemother, fresh yet stinging, flourished across his belly.

 The Mark of the Glacian, cold and lonely, etched against his tailbone.

 Finally, the Mark of the Draconian had claimed its place on Noctis’s cheek, where it left the cut of a blade just below his left eye.

 The deeds of Noctis in that life were merited, worthy, honorable. He chased after his destiny until he found it. Now, he lies here, lost and naked in the darkness, fully vulnerable to the man who was promised everything until it was taken away from him.

 Noctis could feel the anger and hatred in Ardyn’s hands. The trembling, it caused an ache in Noctis’s own heart. He wants to go home, but… he doubts such a thing exists anymore. So much does he want to believe there’s hope, that there's a chance the gods may forgive him.

 Noctis becomes pregnant with daemon for the tenth time, and swears this is to be the death of him. He bears down so hard, it feels like his body might break; this birth is more difficult than previous ones.

 Then it hits him, like he was just struck by lightning. He is the mother of daemons, the same daemons he tried to destroy. He’s sickened, brutally encumbered by this insane act of reproduction. And by the sweat of his brow, and the vice of his womb, he wonders after his friends. He can picture them: Gladio, Ignis, Prompto, all sitting around their last campfire, tears in their eyes.

 Was it all in vain?

 He wonders if they ever think about him or where he is. They must, if they can find the time to sorrow and ache on a daily basis. He can’t imagine not a day goes by without a thought of him; he remembers them always.

 But it’s the pain that brings him back. Not the memories, not the happiness or joy, but the pain. The slowly twisting, gut-wrenching agony that grips him and tortures him of all feeling until he’s limp and bent, falling to his knees and suffering because of it.

 Having bore yet another daemon, Noctis cries out and slumps against the bed, legs weak and falling open, womb heavy and bleeding. The eyes that meet his are cruel, merciless, harboring a hate that transcends all the young years of Noctis’s life. But they also twinkle, as if they’re friendly, kind, waking up in light of a fondness that might have sprung up from the frosty ground.

 Noctis knows though. It’s not real. Ardyn _is_ the darkness - there is no escape.

 He crawls over Noctis and cups his face with both hands. “The gods have surrendered you to me, Noctis. And I am more than happy…” He stops to kiss Noctis on his lips, leaving his mouth with the coppery taste of blood. “...to receive my gift.”

 “Just end it,” Noctis whimpers, belly bulging with daemon child for the eleventh time. “Please, just end it already!”


End file.
